Blue Heart
by Lirenel
Summary: *challenge 2: Blue* Edmund's favorite color has always been blue. But it was more than just a color - it represented the most important virtue in his life. Any warnings can be found on my profile.
1. Chapter 1

**Title: **Blue Heart**  
Disclaimer: **I do not own the Chronicles of Narnia.**  
Note: **The answer to challenge 2: Blue. I'm back! I hope everyone has had a good Easter! This story is basically told backwards. It starts at the end and winds its way to the beginning, but (hopefully) in a clear and easy manner so people aren't confused. Read it the way I have it posted, but feel free also to then read it backwards. =D

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There were two conflicting views that people held about "old widow Windmore", as Susan Pevensie Windmore was often called behind her back. The first view, held by the dry-thinking adults that included her own grown children, was that Mrs. Windmore was an eccentric old woman who delighted in telling fairy-stories to children instead of complaining of her arthritis like they thought she should. In fact, she acted more like a child than a widow of seventy-four, growing sillier and more addled as the years passed.

To the young children who knew her, though, Nana Susan was the kind lady who baked cookies while she told wonderful stories of dragons and knights and talking animals. Her grandchildren and great-grandchildren bragged about her stories to their schoolmates, and most of them thought that the best part of visiting Nana was sitting nearby as she mixed cookie batter, all the while sharing her tales. And Nana Susan told them the stories until they grew too old to love fairy tales and became dry-thinking adults like their parents.

One little boy, the younger child of Susan's oldest granddaughter, loved his Nana's stories more than any other child who had ever heard them. He wanted to be just like High King Paul or King Edward in the tales, fighting giants and hags; he wanted to dance with fauns like Queen Lillian. He wanted to bury his face in Aslan's mane, just as Queen Sarah had done.

And, unlike the other children, he was canny enough to notice when Nana Susan slipped up in her tales. Sometimes King Paul became Peter, or Queen Lillian became Lucy. Sometimes Edward was Edmund, and sometimes Queen Sarah was 'I'. The young boy, bold like his great-great aunt, was the only one to ever ask Nana Susan if the stories were real; and he believed her when she sat him down next to her on the living room sofa and solemnly told him that, yes, the stories had really happened.

The boy looked up at his Nana with wide eyes as she told him how she and her siblings had found Narnia, had lived there for many years. Though he was very young, he still saw that Nana Susan had tears in her eyes when she told him that she had stopped believing in Narnia when she got older, just as his own older sister no longer listened to Nana's tales. The little boy matched Nana Susan's smile when she told him how, when she was old and grey and alone, she had believed again. When silence fell, he spoke up with the innocent question of a child. "Can I meet Peter and Edmund and Lucy? Please, Nana?"

His Nana's eyes went sad again and she twisted the braided bracelet that was as much a part of Nana as her stories and her cookies. "I'm sorry, love, but they went to be with Jesus in Heaven a long time ago." She smiled as his head drooped, embarrassed at having made his Nana sad. "It's alright. I know they're happy. And I have my memories of them. See, I even carry their memory on my wrist." Nana Susan held out her arm so the boy could see the faded ribbons that made up her bracelet: one gold, one green, one a startling, entrancing blue, braided together and fastened with a small, silver clasp in the shape of a lily.

The little boy had always wondered about the bracelet as much as he had wondered about the stories, so he eagerly asked what his Nana meant. Susan smiled, one gnarled finger gently stroking the ribbons in turn. "The gold ribbon is for Peter."

"The High King!"

"Yes, High King Peter, who was called the Magnificent. Oh, how the color fits him; and not just because his hair was as golden as Aslan's mane. His heart was pure gold and his smile lit a room like the sun. He was born to be a king, and he never disgraced his crown. I could not choose a better color to represent my older brother."

Susan then fingered the green ribbon. "I remember Lucy with the green ribbon because she was always so full of life. She was more at home in the woods and fields of Narnia than she ever was at our castle at Cair Paravel. And she never lost that when we returned to England; she was always running, barefoot and carefree, through the grass. She would laugh and the birds would seem to laugh with her. Oh yes, Lucy was life."

Nana Susan's hand stilled a moment, fingers hovering over the last ribbon. It was a lovely shade of blue, which the boy would later learn was called indigo. Now, though, he watched, curious, as Nana Susan's eyes fixed on the ribbon. When she spoke again, her voice was soft. "This…this is a very special ribbon."

The little boy frowned at the bracelet. "For Edmund?"

"Yes."

When she did not continue, the young boy decided that he should prompt his Nana with a question. "Why is Edmund's ribbon blue?"

Susan's gaze turned into the distance, to the memory of her beloved little brother and the color that had defined his life. The creases near her eyes crinkled as she smiled. "Because blue is his favorite color."

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	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

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Edmund was fairly certain that if he did not do something quickly, Susan would likely try to bite Lucy's head off. Seeing as he loved both his sisters, this did not seem like an agreeable outcome. Therefore, he stepped hurriedly between the two girls with a smile plastered on his face. "Susan, would you care to join me on a walk?"

Susan did not move her glaring eyes from Lucy's unhappy face. "I really don't have time, Edmund…"

A gentle but firm hand on her arm stopped the excuse. She looked up into Edmund's dark eyes. "Su. Please. Just a short walk."

"Fine," she growled, and stormed over to the hall closet to grab her autumn coat. It was rather chilly outside, so brother and sister were sure to wear coats and scarves as they stepped out of the house and headed for the neighborhood park.

Edmund offered Susan his arm, but she rolled her eyes at him. "I am perfectly capable of walking without any help, Ed," she snapped, still angry over her most recent argument with Lucy, which had come all-too close after yet another argument with Peter. Susan instantly felt bad for it; of all her siblings, Edmund was the only one who did not seem to go out of his way to annoy her, and she did not want to drive away the one person who she could actually converse with when at home.

She need not have worried. Where Peter might have been hurt at her rejection, or Lucy confused, Edmund just nodded and stuck his hands in his coat pockets. He knew that she was just lashing out, and willingly let himself be the target of her anger so that it might cool in being released. For that same reason, the beginning of their walk was silent and brief, Edmund allowing the sharp air and hard pace to bring a semblance of calm to his sister.

By the time they reached the lake in the middle of the park, though, their walk had slowed and Susan seemed to be breathing easier. A look at Susan told Edmund that she was feeling slightly ashamed of her behavior; but she was also giving him wary looks that indicated that she was worried about what he wanted to talk to her about. So the young man initiated the conversation by inquiring into the health of his sister's friends, allowing her to discuss the things in life she enjoyed: being with friends, going to parties, wearing pretty clothes.

Finally, Susan ran out of things to talk about and they lapsed into silence again. After awhile, Susan sighed. "Alright, Edmund, out with it," she insisted, her tone hinting at annoyance.

Edmund looked truly puzzled. "Out with what?"

"You think I should pretend along with you and Peter and Lucy, go along with the Narnia game we used to play." It was what all the arguments seemed to be these days, Susan insisting that Narnia was a game, Lucy getting upset, Peter not understanding.

"Actually, I don't think you should."

_That _surprised Susan. She could tell that he was being perfectly honest with her, but she did not understand how he could have such an opposite thought to Lucy and Peter. Especially Peter, since Edmund had a tendency to follow his brother's lead in everything. "What?"

Edmund led them to a park bench and they sat down. His face was serious, eyes set with clarity. "I don't think you should have to believe that Narnia is real."

"But…Lucy and Peter…"

He shrugged. "Lucy and Peter believe Narnia is real because they can't conceive of any other possibility; they have too much faith _not _to believe. I believe Narnia is real because of what I _learned_ from it, how I changed in its light. But that change is not dependent on Narnia's reality, because I found the same thing _here._ By also believing in Narnia, it just makes the light I found so much more real." Edmund looked sharply at his sister. "Susan, you don't have to believe in Narnia, for precisely the reason we can't go back there: we have to find Aslan in _this_ world."

Susan shook her head, leaning back against the bench with her arms crossed. "Aslan was just someone we made up, Edmund. He doesn't _exist._"

Peter would have blazed at the blasphemy, Lucy might have cried. Edmund only nodded. "Perhaps we did make up a Talking Lion. Perhaps we created the idea of a Stone Table, imagined that he died for my treachery and then came back to life. But don't you see, Susan? Even if all that was a story, _it still happened_. It happened _here_. And he didn't just die to save _me_, he died to save _everyone._"

Susan grimaced as she finally understood what Edmund was talking about. She should have known that his going to church would come to this. Susan stood, re-wrapping her scarf around her neck, very clearly indicating that she wished to go. "I really don't care to have you try and evangelize me, Ed. Though I am glad to see that you understand that Narnia was partly inspired by the Bible stories Mum and Dad used to tell us."

Edmund frowned, but still stood so that they could continue walking back to the house. "That's not…Susan, that's not what I mean. Narnia was not _inspired _by Bible stories; they are similar because God decided to act in a similar fashion in two worlds. But what is _important_ is that you realize…"

Susan spun towards him, angrily. "No! I don't _care_, Edmund. I'm happy the way I am. I don't _need _to be saved from anything, so don't bother me about it!"

Knowing that pushing the issue at the moment would just cause her volatile temper to explode, Edmund wisely restrained from speaking about it any more. They walked the rest of the way in almost complete silence, save for a superficial conversation about the weather and school. Right at the front gate, though, Edmund stopped her. Susan gave him a warning glare, but he ignored it. "Susan, just please, promise me something."

"What?" she snapped.

He slipped a small, leather-bound book from his pocket and handed it to her. "Take this. You don't have to even read it now. Just…keep it for when you need it." There was no doubt in his mind that someday she would certainly need the book. In fact, he had the chilling feeling that she would need it so very soon.

Susan sighed as she read the gold letters on the cover, spelling out 'The Holy Bible'. "Why must you push this Edmund?"

He smiled and kissed her hair; though younger he was still taller than his sister. "Because blue is my favorite color," he said simply and walked through the gate and into the house, his sister at his side.

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Three weeks later, Susan again walked into the dark house, this time alone. She took off her black, veiled hat and slipped off her black gloves. Her pale face was set in determination as she walked resolutely into her room and picked up the Bible from where it had lain, forgotten, in her desk drawer. With grim purpose she passed by the flowers that had been sent "in condolence for her loss" from various people she barely knew and could not care less about. Standing next to the cold fireplace, she threw the book in with a vicious growl. Shaky hands took the matches from the mantelpiece. Striking one, Susan's red-rimmed eyes were transfixed by the flickering flame. She hesitated and, when the flame got too close to her fingers, she quickly blew it out. Sending a glare towards the fireplace, she threw the matches down and stormed off, leaving the book lying in the ashes.

Each day afterwards she performed the same ritual, holding the lit match above the fireplace until the last possible moment before blowing it out, unable to bring herself to complete the act that could free her from her mocking words. _I'm happy the way I am._ _I don't _need _to be saved. I'm happy the way I am. _Instead she screamed, she cried, she stared numbly into nothingness. She grieved and she hated, hated the world and God and herself.

And then, one day, she found that there were no more matches in the matchbox. Her ritual now impossible, she stared a moment before taking a deep breath and plucking the book from the fireplace. Susan took it into the boys' room and sat at Edmund's desk. She pulled out a handkerchief and gently wiped away the ash and soot from the cover, before opening it.

The book opened easily to a well-worn page. Pencil markings underlined a short verse. _Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails._

Susan felt a knot form in her throat, but she shook her head to try and drive it away. She went to shut the book, but her eyes caught a flash of color that they had not seen before through her blurry vision. There, marking the page, marking the verse, marking Edmund's last words, was a long ribbon of indigo blue.

She shakily pulled it from the crease of the book. It was slightly tattered at the edge, and permanently wrinkled as she rubbed it between her thumb and fingers. In a sharp motion, Susan crumbled the blue ribbon in her fist. Clutching it to her chest, Susan wept.

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	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

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Lucy had absolutely no idea what to get her brother for his birthday. Granted, it was usually hard to find a gift for Edmund, if only because he tended to want things that he _needed_, like socks. Or other boring things, considering that, when she asked him what he wanted, Edmund had suggested that he could use a new pair of scissors. This was decidedly unhelpful.

Her other siblings were no help either. Peter had _also_ suggested a pair of scissors since, apparently, he was tired of Edmund always borrowing his (Lucy told him that, if he was so upset at this, _he _could be boring and buy Edmund scissors). Susan was equally unhelpful, saying that Edmund would love whatever she gave him just because it was from her. While Lucy knew this was true, she still wanted to give him something _meaningful_.

Especially after the past summer. Though she and Edmund had returned to Narnia for the third time, this time with their cousin Eustace, they had both been told by Aslan that they would not be allowed back again. While she knew Edmund had accepted Aslan's decree with his usual calm dignity, Lucy also knew that he was slightly depressed over the thought of never seeing Narnia again, even if he could find Aslan in England. She knew, because she felt the same way.

And birthdays were always hard, having already gone through them once before, and they brought back memories of years past. Therefore, Lucy dearly wanted to give her brother something to cheer his soul, to remind him that he would always be King Edmund no matter where he lived, to tell him she loved him. She just did not know what that gift was.

By the time Edmund's birthday arrived, Lucy still did not have a present. It was frustrating and worrisome, and she spent a good two hours walking through the market, praying to Aslan that she could find _something _to give her brother. Soon it was late afternoon, and Lucy resigned herself to having to go with her backup plan. She walked into a clothing shop and was browsing their collection of scissors when _it_ caught her eye.

Turning, she bent closer to get a better look. Her breath caught. It was _perfect_. With a quick prayer of thanks, she hurried to make her purchase and raced home to be in time for dinner.

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After supper, the four children gathered in the boys' room. Their parents had already given Edmund his birthday gifts (Mr. Pevensie had given him a book on law that Edmund had been practically salivating over. Mrs. Pevensie had bought him, not only scissors, but a stapler and a very nice pen.). The children, though, preferred to give their gifts by themselves.

Peter went first, as the eldest, grinning as Edmund jabbered excitedly over the intricately-detailed knife that Lucy knew he had scrimped and saved to buy. Susan had sewn a down-pillow for him, each corner embroidered with Edmund's royal seal. Edmund, who tended to view sleep as a science for him to perfect, obviously loved it.

Then it was Lucy's turn. She grinned in excitement as she handed him the small, wrapped box. Edmund unwrapped it carefully, opening the box with patient eagerness. His smile turned puzzled as he saw what the box held. "Um, Lu? Are you sure you didn't give me Susan's present?"

Lucy rolled her eyes. "It's yours, silly. Trust me."

"But…it's a hair ribbon." Peter hid a smile behind his hand at Edmund's pathetically confused voice, while Susan giggled and strained to look at the ribbon that Edmund now held awkwardly in his hand.

This did not daunt Lucy, nor did her smile fade. "The ribbon isn't the _point_, Ed. Look at the _color_."

Obedient, Edmund took another look at the ribbon. His confusion was slowly replaced by an understanding smile. The smile turned into a grin. "It's perfect, Lucy. How did you find it?"

Lucy gave him that special smile that always graced her countenance when thinking of one specific being. "Aslan. I wanted to give you something to remind you of Narnia. I saw the ribbon and remembered what you said about the color and I knew that Aslan wanted you to have it, to remind you to always, well, be you."

Edmund looked at the ribbon again, its indigo blue straight out of memory. His mind went back to the past, when he had set that blue and everything it meant as his life's goal. In this world, where blue was a color of grief, it did him good to remember the meaning behind this very shade. Still smiling, Edmund drew his little sister into a tight hug. "You know me too well, Lucy. I'll treasure it always."

Lucy hugged him back just as tightly, happy in his joy. "I know you will. It's your favorite color, after all."

Edmund laughed, a light, happy laugh, and decided that that had earned Lucy a good tickling. Peter and Susan were happy to help, and soon all four were collapsed into a heap of laughing, red-faced children, smiling in their joy at being together.

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I thought this chapter should be happy to make up for the sadness of chapter two.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

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Peter usually was not one to take much notice into what his brother wore. His sisters, yes, because it was always a good idea to take notice and compliment the gowns and ribbons of the two queens. Usually, though, Edmund could wear one of Susan's bodices and Peter would not notice at all (In his defense, he _had _had a concussion at the time).

Now, though, circumstances were different and Peter was noticing _everything_ about his brother, every movement and gesture, every rustle of clothing. Likely this was because Peter, Susan, and Lucy had just spent the last year not knowing if Edmund was alive or not, with 'or not' being the more likely scenario and the opinion of most of the rest of Narnia. It was only two months previously that Peter and his scouting party had been saved by an army of blue-painted, humanoid Woads. Two months since he had found that those self-same Woads had also saved Edmund from the Fell Creatures that had captured him, and were training him in their ways. Two months since he had brought Edmund home, thinner but _alive_.

Having one's little brother back, after a year of thinking he could be dead, tended to leave an older brother hyper-sensitive to anything concerning said little brother. Which was why Peter noticed that Edmund now wore more blue than ever before. He wore blue for his normal, everyday clothes, and refused to wear any other color when meeting with important dignitaries. Edmund was even contemplating changing the tincture of his coat of arms to azure instead of vert. Peter, of course, easily and nervously connected this upswing in wearing blue to the importance that the Woads had placed on the color, to the faint blue that still stained Edmund's skin.

It bothered Peter. He was unbelievably thankful to the Woads for saving Edmund from his captors. He was thankful that they had saved his own life and that of his soldiers and the civilians they were protecting. However, Peter found it very hard to forgive the Woads for _keeping_ Edmund, and refusing to let him contact his family to at least let them know he was alive. Oh, he understood that it was a cultural objection, that they had to integrate Edmund into their society before trusting him. Peter just did not like it. He did not like that they had taken to his brother, or that they had adopted him into their clan. And he especially did not like that Edmund was still maintaining his connection with that adoption, that he willingly called his Woad mentor 'chorl-father' and called the children of the village his 'chorl-brothers and sisters'. So Peter was none too happy with Edmund wearing the blue of his adopted clan.

Of course, Peter would never tell Edmund any of this, as Peter tended to keep his upset tight against his chest. Not to mention he knew that Edmund was almost deliriously happy to be home and Peter did not want to do or say anything to change that.

Peter should have known, however, that he was not the only sibling keeping an eye on the younger king. Therefore, he should not have been surprised when, at dinner, Susan commented on the fact that Edmund was going to need more clothes soon if he kept wearing the same ones all the time. Edmund, of course, did not know what she was talking about. Lucy rolled her eyes. "She means you are wearing the same outfits all the time and they're starting to fray. Why _do _you mostly wear your blue clothes now, Ed?"

The question, so innocently posed, caused Peter's back to tense almost imperceptibly. Edmund did not seem to notice, thankfully, despite usually being able to read Peter's every movement. "Well, I guess it is because being with the Woads reminded me why blue is my favorite color. To the Woads, blue, especially indigo, is the color of _healyf._"

"Healyf?" asked Lucy, her eyes squinting in confusion.

Edmund smiled, leaning back slightly in his chair. "Healyf is loyalty, the kind of faithful love that makes you willing and eager to risk death to protect. Those without it, who have forgotten how to love, are considered little more than walking dead until they find it again. Wearing blue is a reminder to always have healyf."

Peter kept his face the picture of calm. "Loyalty and love for your clan."

Edmund dark, smiling gaze stared at his brother. "For my _kin,_" he insisted softly, making sure to note each of his siblings with his eyes, assuring Peter that, not only did he not have to worry about Edmund's connection with the Woads, but that Edmund could _still_ read his older brother's heart.

Lucy grinned as she saw Peter relax for the first time in over a year. She had been worried that he had taken Edmund's adoption into the Woad clan too hard; Peter had a tendency to jealously guard his siblings' affection, Edmund's more so than the girls'. Of course, she should have remembered that Edmund knew their brother just as well, and knew just the right words to say to help Peter.

Still better was that Edmund meant every word he said. Even before the Woads, Edmund had been renowned for his loyalty, for his devotion to his siblings. The year he was missing had shown them how much they depended on his love and support to guide them through each day. Lucy, wise as she was, understood very clearly that the blue that had stained Edmund's skin and now dyed his clothes was just the outward declaration of the very nature of her brother's loyal and loving heart. After all, as he had said, blue had always been his favorite color.

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	5. Chapter 5

**Final Chapter**

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There were two conflicting views that people held about six-year-old Susan Pevensie. Adults, including her own parents, saw a sweet, tender-hearted little girl who loved playing with her dolls and her siblings. The grown-ups cooed over her dark curls and adorable smile. They exclaimed loudly over her delightful manners and precocious questions.

To her siblings, though, she was mostly just 'bossy Susan'. Lucy was too young still to understand that Susan _always_ got her way, but the boys were under no illusions. Peter just went along with Susan's insistence on everyone playing her way, mostly because he didn't like it when she cried and yelled, and because he could always leave and play with his friends if he got too annoyed. Four-year-old Edmund endured playing with Susan because Peter did.

On that particular day, though, it was raining, thus depriving Peter of his usual avenue of escape. He had _tried _to ignore Susan's pleading for him to play, but she always knew how to rope him into it anyway. Therefore, Peter was already in a grumpy mood as he sat at his 'desk' (a large atlas that he balanced on his lap) and doodled on a piece of paper as Susan played teacher. Edmund, sitting next to his older brother, seemed to be listening to Susan much more than Peter. Except for when he was craning his head to see what Peter was drawing and getting into his increasingly irritated brother's way by grabbing at his arm.

Susan gave her 'class' a stern look. "Now we're going to talk about colors. My favorite color is pink because it is pretty and princesses wear pink and Mummy promised that I can have a new pink dress for Christmas. Peter, what is your favorite color?"

Peter sighed and shook Edmund off his arm _again_. "I like blue. You _know_ that Susan."

The 'teacher' ignored Peter's irritation and turned to her little brother. "Edmund, what is your favorite color?"

Edmund's eyes lit up. "Blue! I like blue!"

Now, usually Peter was very tolerant with his brother and the fact that Edmund liked to copy _everything _he did. But it was raining and Peter was bored and he was through with Edmund hanging over him and _stealing _his favorite color. "You can't like blue, that's _my _favorite color!" he snapped at Edmund.

Edmund looked up at him with wide, dark eyes. "But I _like_ blue! Blue is my favorite color!"

That just made Peter angrier. "No it's not! You're just a little copy-cat!"

Poor Edmund probably did not even know what a copy-cat was; he just knew that his older brother was angry and shouting at him. His little face scrunched up and he let out a plaintive wail, before scrambling to his feet and running from the room as fast as his tiny legs could carry him. Susan was none too happy with this. "Look what you did, Peter!" she scolded, hands on her hips in a conscious mimicry of their mother.

"He's just being a baby," Peter protested. Edmund was _always_ getting upset over every little thing Peter did. Usually Peter was able to calm him down before their parents noticed, but it seemed that the day would be getting worse.

He was right, as their mother soon appeared in the doorway, carrying a sniffling Edmund in her arms while Lucy toddled in with her, clutching Mrs. Pevensie's dress in one hand. Seeing Susan, Lucy let go and tottered over to her sister, babbling over everything and nothing. Mrs. Pevensie, though, was focused on the little boy she carried and the older boy who had scrambled to his feet, his guiltiness plastered on his face.

Mrs. Pevensie sighed and sat on the couch, Edmund huddled in her lap and whimpering dejectedly against her chest. "Peter," she began, "would you like to tell me what has upset your brother so?" It was not a suggestion.

Peter glowered at Edmund for getting him into trouble. "He's being a baby, Mum," he repeated. "I just told him to stop copying me. He can pick a different favorite color!"

"But I like _blue_!" Edmund wailed.

Mrs. Pevensie hugged her little son, murmuring soothing sounds to calm him down. While some might think that favorite colors was a silly thing to fight over, Mrs. Pevensie was raising four children and had quickly learned that, to a child, a favorite color could be considered a life and death matter. So she would treat it like the serious topic it was. "Eddy," she asked calmly, "why do you like blue?"

Edmund sniffled. "Because _Peter_ likes blue." He glanced quickly at his brother, than buried his face against his mother.

His answer just proved Peter's point. "See! He's just copying me!"

Mrs. Pevensie was silent a moment before speaking gently to her oldest child. "Peter, do you know _why _Edmund copies you?"

Peter had not actually thought of it before. He had always assumed that Edmund was just being annoying. But his mother's tone indicated that she thought there was something more. "No."

Smoothing her youngest son's dark hair, Mrs. Pevensie smiled at Peter. "He copies you because he wants to be like you, because he thinks you're wonderful. Peter…Edmund likes the color blue because _you_ like it and _he_ loves_ you_. Loving what you love is a way for him to love _you_." She did not wait for Peter to answer; she wanted him to ponder what she had said. "And now, I think it's nap-time for some. Peter, please watch Susan while I put Edmund and Lucy to bed." He nodded, his forehead creased with thought, and Mrs. Pevensie left with her two youngest, trusting that her highly intelligent son would think everything out for himself.

Peter _did_ think. He thought for a whole half-hour, which was quite long for the energetic young boy. Finally, he came to a conclusion and, slipping out of the kitchen where Susan and their mother were baking cookies, he quietly made his way to the room he shared with his little brother.

He found Edmund curled in a tight ball and clutching Pig, his stuffed bear, to his chest. Peter knew he was not supposed to wake up his younger siblings when they took their naps, but this was important. He shook his brother's arm, softly calling his name. "Edmund. Eddy." The little boy opened his bleary eyes, taking a moment before being able to clearly focus on Peter. Edmund's eyes lit up seeing his older brother, but then quickly darkened in upset as he remembered being yelled at. Peter smiled, hoping to bring that happy light back. "Eddy, blue can be your favorite color, too."

His smile grew as the light in Edmund's eyes _did_ return. Peter climbed onto the bed and pulled his little brother into a hug. The moment would not last forever: five years later Edmund would be angrily declaring that his favorite color was red. A year after that, they would be too busy trying to run a kingdom in a wardrobe to think about having a favorite color at all. It would not be until Edmund was fifteen and Peter was eighteen that the younger brother would be able to fully articulate why blue was his favorite color.

But for now, Peter was content just to know that blue was Edmund's favorite color; because blue was Edmund's way of saying "I love you."

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_fin_


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